Fated

by Liza James

  Frannie’s blunt, always straightforward. But I appreciate that about her, she knows how much I hate hedging the truth. Just tell me how it is so I can fix it.

  “Seriously though, if you need to go home, tell me and I’ll call someone else. You look like you need the rest.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll stick it out while I can. I need the distraction and I promise it’s not contagious.” She eyes me warily but nods her approval and I turn to take the next order. Instantly, a rush of panic freezes me in place as I catch the quickest glimpse of snow-white hair. I snap my head to the side, seeking Amelia out but see no one. I anxiously scan the room for her, but again, see only our regular customers.

  “Are you okay darling?” Karen, an older woman in front of me snags my attention. Her salt and pepper hair is piled high on top of her head and she dons a pair of thin framed glasses perched low on her nose.

  “I’m so sorry, Karen. I’m fine, I just thought I saw someone I knew. What can we get for you today?”

  And just like that I fall back into my rhythm, using every customer, every task, every drink as a way to distract myself from the pain coursing through my body. Sometime around ten a.m., I developed a consistent tremble and Frannie pulled me from making any more drinks, so I busied my hands by cleaning every square inch behind the counter. I tire incredibly too quickly, stopping every couple of minutes to catch my breath through a simple task of scrubbing the fridges. I can tell that she’s is worried, I see her watching me with uncertain eyes when she thinks I’m not paying attention.

  Throughout the rest of my shift, I continued catching quick flashes of Amelia’s hair. It was by the bathroom, then coming in through the front door, she’d be next to the counter and then standing up from a small table. Each and every time I saw it, a piercing shot of fear sparked through my chest and every single time I had to remind myself that she wasn’t here. But the anxious thoughts and my wandering eyes added weight to my already weakened body.

  Now, I’m in so much pain that my vision is growing hazy and nausea is welling in the pit of my stomach again. I stand for a moment, taking a few of the deepest breaths I can manage when I relinquish my hold and tell Frannie I need to step out in the fresh air for a minute.

  “Please go to the hospital, Luna. I’m not kidding. I’ve already called someone else in. You’re almost set to be off anyway,” she pleads as she gathers my bag from under the counter and passes it to me, all but shooing me out the back door of her little building.

  “Okay, okay. Thank you, I appreciate it,” I mumble a quick goodbye and stumble out the door. I don’t even bother telling her I definitely won’t be going to the hospital, or any doctor for that matter. The issues I’m experiencing can only be fixed by one solution, and that’s something I don’t want to think about now.

  Walking a few paces away from her shop, I stop and rest a hand against the red brick wall. It’s rough under my fingers and the gritty texture reminds me of that awful night seven years ago, as well as the night that happened all too recently. The back of Frannie’s building is in a small alley way between the cute shops here in Brooklyn, so I’ve got some privacy.

  I turn and rest my back against the wall as I slide down so that I’m sitting. My head falls back and I close my eyes, intentionally counting each breath that roughly works out of my throat.

  Focus.

  A wave of nausea rolls through me and I clutch my stomach, silently begging myself not to puke out here behind the shop. I want to stand up and order an Uber, but I need a few more minutes to catch my breath. I vaguely hear a few soft steps and pry my eyes open to look towards the back of the alley. Not surprisingly, but terrifyingly, I see another flash of snow-white hair as a shadowy figure stands at a distant. Immediately, my heart begins racing in my chest. It’s thundering so loudly that the sound floods my head and rushes between my ears.

  I try to breathe and calm myself so that I can stand and run but my natural instinct to inhale has all but vanished, making it nearly impossible. I close my eyes as my vision blurs and I fumble for the phone in my bag, feeling for it until I grasp it and bring it in front of my face. Opening my eyes again, I refuse to look in Amelia’s direction. I focus all of my energy on unlocking and searching for Nathanial or Elijah’s number, whichever comes first.

  Unfortunately, the soft steps become too loud and the anxious thoughts paired with lack of oxygen become too much. Before I ever get the chance to call for help, my tired eyes slide shut as darkness overtakes me and I slump to the cold ground below.

  “You are incredibly stubborn, Luna.”

  My name.

  His voice.

  Undeniable relief clouds my mind as I hope beyond anything that it truly is Elijah waking me up and not Amelia. I’m still outside, still slumped against the old brick wall as the chilly air dances across my skin and the cement below scrapes across my flesh.

  I slowly blink my eyes open, letting my vision clear as his strong green eyes gaze back at me. For a split second, I think I see something other than anger shining in them. A quick glint of concern breaks through but disappears immediately.

  “I hate how happy I am to see you,” I mumble as I push myself up on shaky arms. The corner of his lips lifts just barely, and I’m rewarded with the tiniest of smirks.

  He doesn’t offer me a response, instead his strong hands slide under my legs and behind my back as he effortlessly lifts me into his arms. I’m too weak to do anything but allow it and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m beyond thankful for it. I sigh in relief as his warmth seeps into my body. God, it’s like I’m the cold and he’s my sun. It’s an instant energizer, healing me and incrementally fixing everything I’ve been through overnight.

  My breaths become significantly easier and I’m positive I sound odd as I force several long pulls of air into my deprived lungs. I can fully appreciate his scent while I’m this close to him, it’s dark and smoky with hints of pine and fire like he’s been out in the woods all night. He walks us out of the alley and towards his blacked-out Jeep, which is parked on the street.

  “Where is Amelia?” I stammer out. I don’t exactly want to know but I feel as though I need to. I can’t help it, I burrow my face deeper against his chest, seeking out more of his blazing heat through the thin white t-shirt he’s wearing. He immediately tenses, from my words or from the physical action of seeking more of him, I don’t know. I try to ignore the pang of rejection by reminding myself that neither of us wants this with each other.

  “Amelia? Was she here?” He halts his steps and pulls away just slightly so that he can look down at me. I meet his eyes by briefly tipping my chin up but honestly, I’m too tired to maintain it so I grunt out a quick yes and close my eyes again, wishing I could crawl under his skin and bury myself inside his sun.

  His steps pick up as we quickly reach the vehicle and he instantly yanks open the back door. He gently places me on the seat but faces me towards him as he dips down low to put himself in my direct line of vision. My head slumps to the seat, along with the rest of my body as exhaustion rolls over me. I’m finally comfortable and all I want to do is sleep for the next decade.

  “Luna. Pay attention for a moment. Did you see Amelia?” He asks the words clearly and deliberately. I realize in that instant, as I watch him from the open doorway, that he doesn’t seem affected by our separation in the slightest. His chocolate hair is perfectly styled back, his tattoos shining against his healthy olive skin, he has no bags under his eyes because it seems he slept soundly through the night. How am I the only one effected by our bond?

  “Why don’t you look like shit?” I ask as the sting of how this is obviously different for him dawns on me.

  “Excuse me?” His eyebrows shoot up and one of his large hands land heavily on the seat next to my thigh. He moves slightly closer, searching my eyes with his own.

  I don’t have the energy to explain it to him, I don’t even think I truly want the answer. So, I close my eyes and utter a quiet, “Forg
et it.”

  “Luna,” he growls my name out of his soft lips and my eyes snap open against the rough sound grating over my skin. Heat pools in my stomach, arousal coursing through my body. My addiction tempts me at the strong command of my simple name being spoken on his lips. “Goddamnit, fucking pay attention.”

  His large hand shoots forward and grips the back of my neck tightly, pulling me upright as a bolt of electricity ignites under my skin. I gasp at the touch and the feeling of his heat blazing in my own blood.

  “Was Amelia here?” he asks again, the slightest bit of pain lacing his voice. I don’t answer immediately, instead I watch him. My mind drifting to the countless reasons why he would be so interested in Amelia being here. I want to say it’s because he cares about me, and I hate that I want that to be the case. But I’m not stupid, and I can clearly see they’ve had a serious relationship in the past. I feel more rejection at the idea that she very intentionally tried to kill me and he’s still seeking her out.

  When I don’t answer, his other hand falls to the crook in my neck. His thumb gently strokes against my collar bone, through the sweater that’s pulled up on that side of my shoulder. His strong fingers softly knead and work my muscles in a way that has me relaxing and tensing simultaneously at my stimulation to it all. Heat builds in my stomach, falling even lower and flowing through my limbs. My head tilts just slightly, allowing him more access when his voice breaks through my fog.

  “Was Amelia here?” he asks again, this time softer, coaxing the answer from me in sync with his touch. I don’t miss the intention there, and I suddenly understand how he’s manipulating my half of the bond to get the information he needs.

  I immediately straighten my back and reach for his hands, shoving them off of me. “Don’t. Don’t fucking manipulate what I can’t control just so you can get closer to her,” I hiss the words out through my teeth as anger boils inside of me. His eyes go wide for a moment, confusion pulls at his features until he understands what I mean and takes a step back.

  “For fuck sake, seriously? Fine, don’t tell me if she was here. I don’t care anyway,” he slams the door shut as I groan in frustration.

  “You don’t understand his relationship with Amelia. Maybe if you asked, he’d tell you.” Nathanial’s voice speaks from behind and I whip my head around to find him settled in the far seat of the Jeep.

  I scoff, “I have a pretty clear idea.”

  “No. I promise that you don’t,” he says and then turns his head to stare out the window as Elijah jumps in the front seat.

  Last night was literal hell. And believe me, I have a pretty good idea on what Hell is actually like. I didn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and wanted nothing more than to climb in my Jeep and drive into the city just so that I could be closer to Luna without actually seeing her.

  I’m internally torn in half. Part of me wants to be with her all of the time while the other part wants nothing to do with her again. She gets on my nerves, her emotions are too overwhelming and all over the fucking place, and then I find out that Amelia is already looking for her again?

  Fuck, I didn’t want any of this.

  I ended up sleeping out in the woods last night. The fresh air helped, and I refused to come back inside and face Sam. I felt too sick to give her anything she may have wanted. Sam is not my girlfriend. She never will be my girlfriend and I’ve made it pretty damn clear that’s the case. However, she’s a consistent casual fuck and for that reason, sticks around a lot of the time without actually moving in. I’d kick her out now that Luna is around, but honestly, Sam makes it clear that nothing will be happening between Luna and I.

  Though holy hell, last night while Luna was clearly touching herself, I couldn’t keep my hands off my own cock. I don’t know what had happened, but I could feel her relaxing for the first time since we had been apart. Relaxation turned to arousal, and before I knew it, I could practically see her touching herself. Her sweet, milky thighs spread wide. Her small hand circling and working her clit until she came. I pulled out my cock and stroked myself, gripping the thick base and squeezing hard before I came because I had already been that fucking close when I felt her. She doesn’t understand it, but she could feel my own arousal while she got off, it’s why her orgasm literally tore through her body when it shouldn’t have been that intense. We came at the same time, and I rode out my orgasm with continued strokes as I imagined Luna on her knees in front of me, while I coated her creamy tits with my cum.

  I spent the rest of the night in pain being away from her, while hating her all the same for making me feel this way. This morning, I held off as long as I possibly could before storming over to her and forcing her to come back with me. We can’t stay away from each other. I am not going to deal with that bullshit for the rest of my life. Not until we find a way to manage it.

  Thankfully, I was able find her pretty easily through our bond. I had to focus, but I basically felt my way to her while Nathanial drove, directing him through the city until we were near, and he jumped in the backseat. When I found her outside that little coffee shop, passed out against the brick wall, I wanted to yell at her for being so fucking careless. She shouldn’t have let it get that far, and fainting in the middle of the city? Did she have no idea what could possibly happen to her? Who could take fucking advantage of her? That would destroy me. Then she mentioned Amelia and I about lost it all right then and there.

  Rage burned through my veins at the thought that Amelia was already looking for Luna. I figured she would eventually, but by that point I hoped Luna and I would be on better terms, at least fucking living together so neither of us were in a weaker state. I also needed to have Nathanial start training Luna, teaching her defense tactics and how to fight if it was ever necessary. I had a sick feeling that ultimately, it would be.

  Hell, the fact that Luna thought I was using her to get closer to Amelia for any reason other than to kill her myself, proves that she has no idea how to read our bond in the slightest. That’s for the best though. She can believe whatever the hell she wants as long as she sticks close and simply doesn’t die. I don’t give a shit about the rest.

  We pull up in front of my house and climb out of the vehicle, filing inside as I lead us all to my living room. Sam hurries in and greets me, leaning up and pressing her soft lips against my own in a kiss that’s clearly claiming her property in front of Luna. I feel the spark of reluctant jealousy lick through my chest and I know that it’s hers. Neither of them likes the other, but it makes no difference to me. Neither of them means much to me at all.

  At least that’s what I keep telling myself. I easily pull away from Sam, gently stepping to the side of her as I motion for Nathanial and Luna to take a seat.

  “Give us a few moments, Sam,” I say as I dismissively nod for her to leave the room. She looks disappointed, again. But no one knows about mine and Luna’s bond, or the fact that we are Fated, and it needs to stay that way. She stalks out of the room a second later.

  Luna takes a seat on the long, black leather couch, cozying herself in the corner as she folds her feet up and tucks them underneath her. Nathanial sits down far too close to her, if I’m being honest, and lifts his hand to rest against the back of the couch, behind her head. My eyes zero in the nearness he’s taking to her, but I know for a fact he feels nothing for her other than platonic affection. Nathanial has never been interested in dating. He’s always focused on his work. He’s one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met. He studied his ass off to get his doctorate in medicine for humans but also works as our race’s healer after the attacks on the Capital.

  It’s not that he can’t date, it’s just that he’d rather have a one-night stand when he needs that connection, and then send them on their way in the morning so he can get back to work. Believe me, I know. He oddly attracts the wild ladies and I’m always the recipient of his crazy stories when he’s done. Or I show up at his home and get the tail end of their insane arguments as he shoos them out the
door. And I do mean them, as in plural, as in more than one woman at a time.

  I take a seat on the arm of the gray recliner opposite them. Casually sliding my hands in my pockets, I cross my ankles and meet Luna’s cautious gaze with my own. She’s horrible at hiding the fact that she’s attracted to me. The actual worst at masking her wandering eyes when they travel down my torso, or the feelings she experiences when I walk into the room. I get both halves of her, appreciating me and hating me at the same time. I can relate to that.

  “You’re staying here,” I command. It’s no longer a choice for her.

  “You can’t force me to stay, I can make my own decisions,” she snaps back. I swear, she fights just to prove she can.

  “Do you want to go through another night like the last? It’ll only get worse the longer you’re away.”

  She pauses before answering, I feel the uncertainty clouding her mind. I know what she wants, and that’s for none of this to have happened, but we can’t rewind time. No matter how much we’d like to. That, I know firsthand.

  “No. But I can’t leave my job, or my sister. I need those Elijah. I can’t come here and live in this house with you and do nothing, become nothing. I need something for myself,” she pleads with me. Her eyes widen with both frustration and apprehension at the idea that she’d have nothing here. I contemplate telling her no, that it’s not safe for her to be out in the city now, that I need to keep her hidden.

  Fuck, she’s a Fated. My Fated. But she doesn’t know that, and it’s not something she’s ready to hear. As much as I hate to admit it, she’d go crazy living here without any outlet. I get that, so I compromise.

  “Fine. You can keep your job and keep seeing your sister, but you get rid of your apartment. You don’t need it anyway, and when you work, I’ll head to the Capital and get my own shit done. That way we won’t be so far apart that you’re terribly uncomfortable.” I state my terms clearly, my eyes not leaving hers, even though I’m tempted to look over her entire body. I feel the swell of acceptance and appreciation over being able to continue working, and the hesitation over leaving her apartment. I want to see whatever tick she’s got going while she comprehends what I’ve just said. She absently tugs her bottom lip into her mouth as she thinks and I can’t help but focus on the motion, imagining what that pouty lower lip feels like, tastes like in my own mouth.